


Parkinson's Disease

by MurphyAT



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crack Pairing, F/F, Ginny is in character, No children were scarred in the making of this fanfic, One-Sided Attraction, Pansy OOC, Post Deathly Hallows, Post-Hogwarts, Unrequited Lust, line of crack and humor is toed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-21
Updated: 2013-01-21
Packaged: 2017-11-26 10:13:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/649478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MurphyAT/pseuds/MurphyAT
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ginny is shelving books 341.27 through 675.00 when it happens: Parkinson finally goes public with her passion for the inappropriate. A short bit of mortifying hilarity between two old school meh-nemies.<br/>Or, how Ginny gets the snogfest she asked for, but not the one she expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Parkinson's Disease

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, beautiful! A bit of a warning: I disturbed myself while writing this. I have no idea where it came from, but I'm sure I never want to know. My sister convinced me to put it up; bless her, she seemed to think it funny.  
> Sheesh. My brain, man. It's such a weirdo.

Ginny felt that she was living a life entirely too similar to what Hermione would consider fulfilling. 

In between paying all her bills on time, she studied for Auror training the allotted two hours each day, ate a healthy breakfast, lunch, and dinner in a timely fashion, and had taken a side job at the local library. As if this were not as horrid as Malfoy’s sense of humour, there had been absolutely no romantic rendezvous for a good three months—not even a good, old-fashioned that-was-nice-I’ll-see-you-‘round snogfest! 

Which was rather disappointing, as Ginny had always had the impression that once one graduated from Hogwarts, one must beat back offers for one’s hand (or other, more interesting body parts) the way a particularly ferocious George might beat back two particularly savage Bludgers. There were days when Ginny felt ashamed to identify herself as a relative of the Weasley twins, so little mischief had she accomplished in the last year.

It was one such day that she was quietly and meekly shelving books in the children’s section, when she felt an odd breeze cross her neck. It was pregnant with disturbingly humid air. 

Ginny turned, and promptly dropped books 341.27 through 675.00. They crashed to the floor, crushing her poor toes like a flock of highly offended hippogriffs. 

Pansy Parkinson was standing rather too close for Ginny’s supremely heterosexual tastes. Her eyes lowered in what she obviously thought was an alluring tableau of lust, she resembled an incredibly bored mandrake root. “Hello, Ginevra…” she breathed, humid air this time brushing directly across her face. 

Ginny did not know what to do. This made entirely no sense at all. “Parkinson. Haven’t seen you in a while. If you’ll excuse me, I’ve not finished shelving.”

She made a valiant effort to move around Pansy, but she was having none of it. Ginny felt a pang of strange compassion for Malfoy, who had had to deal with this paragon of nightmares constantly invading his personal space for _years_. Disgusting boy should get a medal. 

Pansy chuckled, the noise grating on Ginny’s nerves like Swiss cheese. “I’m so sorry about that—did you miss me so? We’re alike, you and I.”

Ginny was astounded. Here, before her, was the witch she had always hated with perfect indifference for over seven years. “Parkinson, I don’t know what’s going on, but if you don’t remove yourself quickly, you will be responsible for scarring at least five children, perhaps permanently.”

Parkinson did not seem concerned. Instead, she appeared delighted. “What an excellent proposition. You _are_ a dear.”

She leaned closer. Ginny wondered if it was worth the trouble to tip the bookcase over, as that seemed to be her only open method of escape. “We’re like Romeo and Juliet…all that hatred, it was truly only passion.”

All Ginny could think to say to such a gross misunderstanding of her own perfectly platonic hatred was, “Romeo was a boy.”

Pansy apparently did not care. She threw herself at Ginny, growling frighteningly, and mashed their lips together with alarming gusto. There was a chorus of horror and disgust from the children nearby, and Ginny felt in perfect agreement. She pushed at Parkinson, who was exhibiting limpet-like strength. She shoved, now, and when that failed to do any more than remove Pansy’s lips— _thank Merlin_ —she scrabbled about in her pocket. _Wand…wand…Ah!_ And there it was.

Parkinson had evidently taken Ginny’s frantic shoving and wand-searching for displaced passion and an amateur groping exercise ( _As if,_ thought Ginny, who had always been an excellent groper.), for she threw herself once again at Ginny’s face.

Ginny intended to correct her assumption _immediately_. She pointed her wand at Parkinson and squeaked, “ _Rictumsempra_.”

At last, sweet, sweet freedom. Ginny breathed deeply of the delightfully cool air, and stepped hurriedly over Pansy’s giggling form. 

She paused in her escape only to apologize to the children, who appeared extremely traumatized, and warned them, “Don’t hate anyone too much. They might take a liking to you.”

The children nodded gravely.

**Author's Note:**

> Let's make a deal, shall we? You'll click that lovely little button and write some fancy schmancy words, and I'll hum a twiddly tune. Ready? Go! Deedododoobop, swish humm boom, mmmnododoo.


End file.
